


Wait

by justwhatialwayswanted



Series: Apartment 314 [12]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, like wow, truly TERRIBLE excuses to sit really close to each other on the couch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwhatialwayswanted/pseuds/justwhatialwayswanted
Summary: Jeremy has been trying to figure out what to do about Jean for way too long.Or, more accurately, what to do about how much he wants to kiss Jean.And Jean being unfairly gorgeous isn't helping.
Relationships: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau
Series: Apartment 314 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785295
Comments: 18
Kudos: 93





	Wait

**Author's Note:**

> what's this???? a pov that isn't jean or andrew????????????????????

If Jeremy had to pick one person to talk to for the rest of his life, it would be Jean.

A year ago, he would have been confused by that choice. Jean's never been a particularly talkative person—at least, not like Jeremy is, but Jeremy's fully aware that he sets a pretty high bar for talkativeness. 

But it's not about the words. It's about what Jean does with them.

Right now, for example, Jean is frowning down at his phone. He hasn't said anything for about three full minutes. Neither of them have—Jean's phone had buzzed, he had glanced at it and said "Oh, it's from Andrew," read the text, and then he'd gone through a  _ whole _ face journey (confusion, skepticism, fatigue, and an extremely impressive eyeroll) and now Jeremy is just waiting to see when Jean will get his thoughts in order enough to figure out what he's going to say about this. Whatever 'this' is.

He might also just be staring at Jean. He may have turned sideways on the couch for this exact purpose. But you know what? He's not ashamed. Jean should probably be scouted by modeling agencies. His black hair sweeps back in waves, with a widow's peak that should probably remind Jeremy of Dracula but makes the heart shape of Jean's face even clearer instead. Jean has his moments of coldness, more than a lot of people, but they're never aimed at Jeremy. That's probably another reason the obvious vampire comparison has never seemed particularly threatening.

And Jean somehow manages to make staring at his phone with an expression of mild disbelief look beautiful. (The phone buzzes every few seconds. Whatever Andrew is talking about, he has a lot to say. That doesn't seem like Andrew, but who knows, Jeremy doesn't live with him. Maybe he has hidden depths of words. Wait, he must, he's an author. Never mind.)

Anyway. Jeremy suppresses the urge to stick his feet under Jean's leg. Mostly because he has no excuse for doing so. His feet aren't even cold. If he says they are, Jean will look down at his fluffy reindeer socks, look back up at him, and raise one eyebrow, and he won't need to say a single word for Jeremy to know exactly what he means. He can see it all playing out in his mind's eye.

Hmm. On the other hand, Jeremy knows the face Jean makes when Jeremy initiates casual physical contact. One third deer-in-the-headlights, one third blushing, and one third what Jeremy wants to call... wonder.

That might make it worth it.

But he tables that for future consideration, because Jean looks up from his phone and says, "Andrew is having a crisis, but he's had the same crisis about three times in the past week, so he'll be fine."

"That was a lot of reading for one crisis," Jeremy says.

Jean shrugs. "I thought it was something different at first. But it always comes back around to Neil eventually, if you give him enough time. It's made conversation with Andrew very efficient."

"Oh?" Okay, and Jeremy doesn't mean to grin, but he does. Andrew's massive crush on Neil has been glaringly obvious ever since Jeremy first saw them in a room together, and Jean indulges him when he wants to catch up on the latest developments.

Jean smiles slightly. "He's pouting over not having an excuse to go see the cats."

"If he hasn't figured out an excuse by now then I think he's being stubborn on purpose."

"That's his way." Jean glances back at his phone. "Apparently the risk of actually seeing Neil outweighs the potential reward of seeing his cats. Someone did not react well to the accent. I think he's waiting until Neil remembers to talk like an American again."

"Which could be never." And Jeremy pokes Jean's leg with one fuzzy-sock-clad foot to make his point. Not that he wants Jean talking like anyone else. His accent is part of what makes him Jean.

Jean turns so he's facing Jeremy, one leg pulled up on the couch between them. The couch feels too big and too small all at once, making Jean somehow far away and close enough to touch at the same time. "But French is my first language. I believe American is Neil's."

Jeremy grins. " _ American. _ "

"I know what I said." Jean puts his phone on the coffee table. "Anyway. Enough about them. How was your week?"

"Oh, it was fine. Forgettable, honestly. I just went to work and came home."

Jean's phone buzzes again. He immediately puts it on Do Not Disturb, and back on the coffee table it goes. "Then I'm glad it's over."

Jeremy shrugs. "Some weeks have to be forgettable. It makes space for things I actually want to remember." It's Saturday, which is unofficially Not-A-Date-With-Jean-But-What-If-It-Is Day, and honestly, daydreaming has gotten Jeremy through quite a few boring weeks. Sara teases him constantly for it.

Jean nods. Maybe it's the feeling that he's looking right through Jeremy's eyes and seeing his thoughts written on the inside of his skull, that Jean knows what he's feeling already, that Jeremy doesn't see his own reflection in Jean's dark eyes but rather Jean matching him. Whatever it is, it sweeps over Jeremy like a strong wind, and he doesn't stop himself from adding, "Like now."

And  _ oh, _ there's that face, like Jean knows exactly what Jeremy means but can't quite figure out what to do about it.

That's okay. Jeremy is still figuring that one out himself.

It's weird, this way they move around each other, touching for a moment here or there, then separating but always in orbit. Teetering on the edge of something.

Jeremy kind of wants to take the plunge.

But 'kind of' is not 'really,' so instead he says, "Do you want hot chocolate? I have almond milk."

Jean nods and follows him to the kitchen. He knows where the mugs are—this isn't Jean's first time in Jeremy's tiny kitchen, far from it—and picks two. Jeremy grabs chocolate and almond milk and starts heating them on the stove. "Can you grab the sugar?"

He hears the pantry door open, and Jean sets the sugar down on the counter, along with the biggest spoon in Jeremy's cutlery drawer. 

Jeremy grins when he sees it. "You know me so well." The chocolate is melting, so he dumps in two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and stirs.

There's not much room for two people in the kitchen, but they manage. Jeremy scoots toward the wall so he can keep stirring but Jean has enough space to lean against the counter without half standing in the fridge. It's a familiar movement, but the sensation of automatically shifting to make room, Jean filling in the space Jeremy left, is still... a lot.

Maybe Sara is a little justified in teasing him so much.

Actually, she's completely justified. He knows he's being ridiculous. But endless hesitation is easier than actually doing something, so here he is, extremely over-aware of Jean's presence only a foot away.

_ Extremely _ over-aware.

Why is Jean wearing a t-shirt, anyway? It's winter, and the insulation in Jeremy's apartment isn't  _ that _ good. He should be bundled up, or at the very least wearing long sleeves, but then again, Jeremy can't really argue with the biceps.

Jean crosses his arms as he stares intently at the hot chocolate, which just needs to be stirred a bit longer, and Jeremy thinks he might die.

But he can't die. He needs to make hot chocolate.

"So what are your plans for the rest of the day?" Jeremy says as he turns the heat off. 

Jean slides the mugs toward him. He's chosen the only matching set in Jeremy's entire cabinet—they're green with white flowers around the rim, an old housewarming gift from his sister. "I have none."

"We could watch a movie?" Anything to keep Jean here for a little while longer.

Jeremy pours hot chocolate into one mug, very carefully (okay, so pouring from a pot directly into a mug is not his brightest idea, but it's worked before), and when he finishes, Jean says, "I'd like that."

Jeremy smiles and fills the other mug.

_ Score. _

They retreat back to the couch, and Jeremy snags the throw blanket and unfolds it before they sit down. Jean raises his eyebrows, and Jeremy says with a pointed glance at his arms, "You can't tell me you're not a  _ little _ cold."

A smile curves across Jean's face as he sits. "I won't, then."

Jeremy spreads the blanket over both of them one-handed, careful not to spill his hot chocolate, and when he settles back into the couch and grabs the TV remote, Jean says, "You can't inform me that I must be cold and then take all the blanket for yourself."

And he shifts closer.

Jeremy officially stops breathing.

Yeah, okay, Sara's right. This is pathetic. Jean is a full six inches away and not touching him at all.

And yet.

"My bad," Jeremy says, and he mentally congratulates himself on how smoothly it comes out. Or, at least, it sounds less flustered than he is. "You seem to have figured out a solution, though."

Jean sips his hot chocolate. There's a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks. "It seems so."

Fuck it.

Jeremy scoots a little closer under the pretense of adjusting the blanket. It's a pretty lame excuse, but so was picking up the blanket in the first place, so he might as well embrace it. His arm brushes Jean's as he settles the blanket over both of their laps, and okay, he might explode soon. "That better?"

Jeremy follows Jean's gaze as it travels from his hot chocolate, to Jeremy's hands, to the few inches of space between them. They're close enough that Jeremy can feel Jean's body heat, has to look up to make eye contact with him when he says, "Much."

Jeremy takes a sip of his hot chocolate, mostly so he can hide his face in his mug, because this proximity to Jean's face is not helping his heart rate. Thank God he stopped wearing a FitBit all the time.  _ Cardio for today: existing within six inches of Jean Moreau. _

Sara is going to laugh herself into a coma.

At the same time, though, Jeremy kind of can't wait to tell her. So he loves to dish. Whatever. It's hard to  _ not _ go over every interaction with Jean with a fine-toothed comb, trying to figure out exactly what is going on between them.

Or rather, what to do about it. Because what's going on is this: Jeremy wants to kiss him.

That's the bald truth, but it's also an oversimplification.

He wants to kiss Jean, yes. But he also wants to move closer, watch a terrible movie and delight in how Jean mocks it, do everything they already do but with none of this ambiguity, none of this wondering where the line is. He wants to wander through the mall hand in hand, fall asleep together, wake up together, look at Jean and not feel like he needs to look away.

Fuck, he might be in love.

A small, bold part of him whispers,  _ so do something about it. _

Jean's face is still turned to his, open in a way Jean almost never is. His lips part the tiniest bit, and Jeremy puts his hot chocolate and the remote on the coffee table before he can talk himself out of it.

Hands free. Great. What exactly did that achieve?

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Jean sets his own hot chocolate on the coffee table, never taking his eyes off of Jeremy's face.

Okay.

There has to be a reason Jean is looking at Jeremy like that, like he holds some kind of key to life. Key to everything.

There  _ has _ to be.

So Jeremy takes the plunge and whispers it. "I want to kiss you."

Jean blinks, just once, dark lashes fanning out over his cheekbones. And he says, "Then do it."

And, well.

That's pretty clear.

Jean leans in, and Jeremy rises to meet him, and their lips press together, brief, lingering for only a second or two, but he feels the curve of Jean's lips and knows they're both smiling.

Jeremy opens his eyes to find Jean already looking at him, the slight blush from earlier blooming across his face, and Jeremy would be hard pressed to think of anything more beautiful.

Jean murmurs, "Do you know how long I've waited to be able to do that?"

"Too fucking long," Jeremy says, and kisses him again, Jean's face cradled in his hands, Jean's arms wrapped around his waist, hot chocolate on his tongue, and he wants to hold on like this forever, wants to press closer and closer and closer and feel the way Jean's heart is beating just as fast as Jeremy's is.

Some time later—maybe a second, maybe an eternity—Jean breaks away from the kiss, face flushed, lips red, and says, "Worth the wait."

Jeremy smiles, and he revels in how he can brush his thumb over Jean's cheek, watch how Jean watches him. "I agree."

They never do get around to watching a movie.

**Author's Note:**

> i literally spent HOURS just trying to figure out how to get to that kiss. my god. so if you're wondering why this fic is so much longer than the other ones in the series, that's why sfjlsghdfjsglhdfj
> 
> anyway please appreciate my labor and thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> -love, birl<3


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